


Of Knives and Venom

by BillieLiar



Series: The Thief and the Blackguard [2]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: (at the end) - Freeform, Angst, But like descriptive, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, Neck Wound, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Rapidly Approaching Chaotic Neutrality Dorn, Service Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, minor blood play, minor cock and ball torture play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27902896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BillieLiar/pseuds/BillieLiar
Summary: Direct sequel to Just Play Along.Dorn chuckled darkly, "We may as well just barge in with swords drawn and revel in the blood of our foes. These bandits have proved no match for us in the past."Cait leaned against the frame of the door and thought for a moment."Let me look farther down the passage and check to see if there's another option. I don't want another one of us wounded before we know where exactly this Davaeorn is."Dorn nodded, clearly understanding the sensibility of this choice even if it wasn't to his taste.
Relationships: Charname/Dorn Il-Khan, Female Charname/Dorn Il-Khan
Series: The Thief and the Blackguard [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043214
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I thought I just wanted to write the one fic but this adventure ended up being fun enough to write a narrative of it! I may write more smut at the end, who knows. I cannot be controlled by even myself.

"Dorn, with me."

Cait gestured to the blackguard and indicated he should follow her.

"Everyone else: hold here for a moment, I have a bad feeling about this hallway."

Jaheira was characteristically ignoring her own gaping wound in her thigh and fussing over Khalid as he let out a small relieved sound and deposited himself on one of the crates in the store room they'd just cleared.

"T-t-thats q-quite alright with me!"

Cait cocked her head and looked at the timid Harper with concern. He'd taken the brunt of a bolt of electricity after the group had triggered a trap which Cait had failed to notice on their way into the mining compound's lowest levels, and hadn't seemed to fully recover even after Jaheira had tended to the wound. A sharp knot of guilt tied itself into Cait's guts whenever something like this happened. She should be doing better than this, her friends being hurt because of her lack of perfection was fully unacceptable. 

"Yeah, why don't you guys take a break. Imoen, stand guard, will you?"

Imoen nodded and gave Cait a little wink as she headed to the room's only door aside from the one Cait and Dorn about to exit through.

"No problem, boss."

The door Cait had happened to notice on the seemingly blank brick wall led into a pitch black hallway. The compound had been riddled with traps and hidden alcoves wherein guards or conscripted hobgoblins lurked. She didn't like it at all, and Khalid and Jaheira never did particularly well when taken underground. This venture was not turning out at all like they'd expected, but then again they'd stumbled into this place almost entirely by accident while wandering the Cloakwood searching for some dwarf's cloak. Cait sighed. She should have encouraged patience, but there had just been such a convenient opening to sneak in at that moment and she couldn't resist the temptation to seek and find out. 

_ No _ , she shook her head and internally reminded herself,  _ they had all agreed and thought it was a good idea. Jaheira even called the compound a blight on the landscape and recommended we raize it.  _

She eyed the dark doorway in front of her and sighed.

"I hate these fucking Iron Throne guys."

Dorn made an amused sound in the back of his throat, but made no other response. Cait didn't like the idea that if one of these riff-raff had stumbled across Dorn before she had and offered him a place in their nefarious group, she likely would've ended up having to fight him somewhere in the bowels of this horrible place. The thought made her blood run cold and she squeezed past him and into the narrow hallway.

"I'm gonna scout ahead, watch my back?"

Dorn grunted an affirmative response and followed her into the dark passageway without hesitation.

Almost immediately Cait noticed three sets of tripwires. She held up a hand to indicate her finding to Dorn, and he came to a halt a few paces behind her.

Trip wires were her least favorite form of trap trigger. A pressure plate could be stepped around, a mechanism within a trunk or drawer could be easily unlatched from it's trigger, but wires were unpredictable. Depending on their age and sensitivity, the slightest disturbance could set them off. Even just stepping over them wasn't always a good idea, because more often than not there would be another even more delicate wire just out of sight on the other side of the first. She turned her head to look at the hulking shadow of Dorn behind her and murmured just loudly enough for him to hear.

"There's at least three. I'm gonna do my best to unhook them from the triggers, but be ready to get out of the way if I fuck it up."

There was a soft clanking sound as Dorn shifted and through the dim half-light she could just make out his nod of understanding, so she went about the tense business of unhooking the wires. The first two dislodged from the eyehook it had been strung through without trouble, but the third had been twisted around it's station more thoroughly and had become rigid and brittle with age and exposure to the lair's damp air. 

"Dammit, I don't know about this one. Uh…" 

She began to sweat, anxiously imagining some small mistake of hers sending some sort of spear or dart into Dorn. Dorn himself, however, was fully calm. He placitly watched her go about the fragile task, knowing full well that had it been he alone in this task he would have simply stepped on the wires and taken whatever punishment they would attempt to inflict upon him. He had seen Cait disassemble more complex mechanisms than these, and even her muttered curses at whatever was going wrong with this particular device did not concern him. His main criticism of the half-elf was that she never seemed to fully believe in her own abilities, a weakness he hoped she would outgrow with time and experience. It was best to wait and let her discover for herself that she had the situation fully under control.

It took several tense minutes, but at last she managed to unwind the wire's hooked end and dislodge it from the anchor on the wall. She stood up and dusted her hands off across the thick leather of her tassets.

"Done. No problem!"

Dorn grunted in approval, and approached Cait from behind now that the path was clear. He smoothed a large hand down her silken red braid and briefly tugged lightly on the end of it. She leaned briefly into his touch, and gave him a brief sly grin over her shoulder before continuing down the path. Dorn's blood rang as his constant desire for her was spurred on by the flush of pride he felt over her success, but now was not the time. If he ravaged her every time he was impressed by her they'd never get anything done.

"Focus, blackguard." Cait warned in a teasing tone. He smirked and fell into step behind her without comment.

A few yards down the path Cait made a sound in the back of her throat and began stroking the stones of the wall gingerly.

"Something doesn't look right about this wall."

Dorn couldn't say he agreed necessarily, but she did know better about these details than he did. He scanned the stones alongside her as she pressed her ear to the wall and smoothed her hand along the stones, looking for something out of place or different from the others, but--after seeing nothing-- defaulted back to watching his mate as she deciphered whatever clues she was picking up on. After a few moments she let out a soft "oh" and laughed at herself for the seemingly obvious whatever-it-was she'd been looking for, and confidently reached out to compress a particular stone which looked in no way different from any of it's brethren.

Light poured into the secret pathway as the second door opened, and Cait could now see that the path continued down just a few dozen more feet to her left. Ahead, beyond the newly opened doorway there stood the back of a tall piece of hardwood furniture which blocked the doorway from view from within the room. It was some form of shelf or storage for a kitchen based on the damp scent of cabbage and vinegar which drifted out towards them. There was just enough space for a person to squeeze between the lip of the actual wall and the large cabinet. Cait pulled a face at the unpleasant smell and listened in closely to the sounds of the adjoined room.

"I think just a cook in here, but there are more voices a little further in. I don't like going in without seeing where they are, and I don't think you could fit through this gap without us needing to move this shelf thing which would ruin the whole surprise factor… what do you think?"

Dorn chuckled darkly, "We may as well just barge in with swords drawn and revel in the blood of our foes. These bandits have proved no match for us in the past."

Cait leaned against the frame of the door and thought for a moment.

"Let me look farther down the passage and check to see if there's another option. I don't want another one of us wounded before we know where exactly this Davaeorn is."

Dorn nodded, clearly understanding the sensibility of this choice even if it wasn't to his taste.

Cait scanned the floor of the corridor ahead of her and found it to be clear of any visible traps. 

She smirked and whispered over her shoulder to Dorn, "Fools just put down the one cluster of traps. Obviously they're not serious about this whole 'self preservation' thing."

Dorn chuckled and she continued carefully skirting the edge of the remaining length of corridor. She felt along the stone of the wall for the telltale electric feeling of an enchanted button. Suddenly, it was there, sparkling under her hand similarly to how a limb feels when waking up after having been deadened. She pressed an ear to the wall by the button on the off-chance she might get an indication of what awaited her on the other side. Hearing nothing, she compressed the stone and stepped back, one hand drifting towards the knife at her hip where it hovered--ready to draw steel should the moment require it.

More light entered the hallway, this time unblocked by anything masking the entrance on the other side. Cait squinted her eyes and hissed as they adjusted, and Dorn stepped smoothly to her side with his sword drawn and raised. The room on the other side of this wall reeked worse than the last, but now it carried the stink of uncared-for body, the dead, and refuse. Cait looked into the startled eyes of the emaciated, pale man before her and reflexively asked aloud to no one in particular.

"What kind of asshole puts a secret back door on his slave chambers???"

The man scrambled to his feet, his toothless mouth wide and his eyes filling with gleeful hope.

"Aren’t you the mercenaries who have been causing the Iron Throne so much trouble?"

Cait nodded an affirmation.

“Good! My name is Rill and I am the de facto leader of the--”

Cait shook her head sharply and interrupted the man, “No time. How can I help?”

Rill looked slightly taken aback, but then said timidly, “I need 100 gold. The captain of the Blacktalons on the first floor is not known for his loyalty to the Throne. If you give me the gold I’m sure I can escort those that remain out.”

"No, no, I think we can do better than that." Cait shook her head as she dug deeper into the bag at her hip and ignored Dorn's disapproving grumble. 

“Here,” She continued as she pulled a sizable cloth sack from the depths of her seemingly bottomless bag, “ why don’t you take… hmm… this should be about 200. Make your way to the Friendly Arm Inn, it's just southeast of here. Get rooms and food for everyone you can manage to get out and get some rest on me." She pointed her slim arm down the length of the hall to her right, "Down there you'll find my friends Kahlid, Jaheira, and Imoen. Two of them are injured, but they'll be more than able to escort you out and--"

Dorn rested a heavy, gauntleted hand on her shoulder.

"You think it wise to send them all ahead of us?"

Cait shook her head, "No, I just want to get a quick look into the next room and see if I can tell where exactly we're heading when we come back when we're actually prepared for this."

Dorn nodded in approval, and Cait handed the poor man the money and waited as the handful of other prisoners shuffled out after him. Once they were clear of the two doorways Cait sprang into action. 

First she ran into the slaves' quarters. She scanned the walls and bunks for anything useful before checking to confirm that yes, the door had no keyhole or handle on the inside. She swore softly and stretched up onto her toes to see if she could see into the next room through the barred window on the door. Unsuccessful, she darted back into the safer darkness of the secret hall. She shook her head up at Dorn, her mouth pulled to the side as she chewed on the inside of her cheek in thought.

"I'm going to have to go in through the kitchen."

Dorn's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, "Like hell you are."

Cait silenced Dorn with a raised hand, "Please, I don't have time to argue. I'm not going to waste having come this far down without at least checking. And who knows," she winked, "it might turn out there's just enough work for the two of us and we can split the spoils between us."

So much for her irritating lack of confidence. Dorn ground his teeth and silenced his own judgment.

"Very well."

Cait stretched up onto her toes and yanked him down to her level for a brief kiss.

"I've been sneaking through rooms of half-drunken men undetected since I was four. Gorian literally had to magically attach a bell to me so I wouldn't be able to pickpocket the people who came to stay at the inn anymore. Also, like half of the other people in the world, I have magical powers. I can do this."

She released the edges of his pauldrons and danced backwards and away from him with a wink.

"If you hear people start dying, come on in!" She whispered gleefully as she disappeared through the gap between the wall and the cabinet.

Dorn considered his opinion of the current situation. Really, she was doing no different than he would do so he had no place to be upset with her. He grumbled quietly to himself and leaned his head back against the cold wall. He would kill her if she got herself killed.

Suddenly there came a round of raised voices accompanied by the  _ whiz  _ and  _ thump  _ of three arrows making their marks. A plainly dressed woman squeezed her way through the opening and let out a short scream upon coming face-to-broad-chest with the towering form of Dorn.

"Please!!! Don't hurt me, that lady said--"

Dorn grumbled and pointed his thumb down the hall.

"I don't care. Go."

The woman scurried away and Dorn kicked the back of the cabinet with massive force causing it to hurtle forward and fall on its face with a cacophony of broken dishes. He released a battle cry and stormed inside, his sword raised in both hands… only to find Cait calmly yanking one of her arrows from the throat of one of the ten or so guards she'd slaughtered in a matter of seconds. She looked up at him and shrugged innocently as she wiped a smear of blood from her cheek.

"They were more than half drunk."

Dorn let out a sound that was half groan half growl and sheathed his sword before storming across the room.

"What?!" She squeaked as she started to cautiously attempt to back away, "I was totally safe!"

He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her, slamming her backwards against the wall and kissing her roughly as soon as they'd made impact. He pulled away and set her down, chuckling darkly.

"Fucking glorious."

Cait blushed a dark pink, making what was visible of the yellowing bruise he'd left on her throat the last night they'd been alone darken and stand out. He leered down at her and brushed a calloused finger gently over his mark.

"I'll need to find a moment to refresh this soon."

She cocked an eyebrow and locked eyes with him as she tugged the uppermost laces of her chest piece loose and dragged the leather collar of her armor to the side, revealing the rest of the apple-sized mark.

"What're you waiting for, big guy?"

Cait ground her core against him and a low rumble began to emit from his chest as he considered her offer.

With a frustrated growl he set her down and took two steps back, his chest heaving with the effort the action had taken. She let out a soft disappointed sound and began retying her laces. He reached behind her head and wrapped her long braid around his hand twice before using it to leverage her gaze up towards him.

"As soon as we are no longer at risk."

The dark promise in his voice sent a shiver up her spine and she practically melted under his dark gaze.

"I-I'd like that." She stuttered slightly and flushed again, embarrassed at how utterly uncharismatic he was able to make her. It was… irritating.

Dorn stepped away from her with a smirk on his face and began picking through the belongings of the corpses that now littered the small dining hall. Cait felt the magical sizzle in the air one beat too late as a circular portal opened up behind Dorn and a man dressed in dark robes appeared. He had a dagger drawn and lunged for the half-orc's back.

"Dorn, behind you!"

It was too late. Davaeorn had appeared unannounced. His dagger sunk straight down into the thick muscle of Dorn's neck just above where the collar of his armor ended. The mage let out a villainous laugh as the portal reopened behind him and he vanished into it.

Cait knew she must have screamed, but instinct had taken over so quickly that she wasn't really sure. She got to Dorn's side quickly enough to steady him as he stumbled backwards, one hand pressed to the gushing wound at his throat. He roared at her.

"Pay me no mind, watch your back, elf!"

She ignored him and pulled his hand down and away from his throat, already forming the words in her mind that would knit his flesh and veins back together.

"Like hell, you fucking idiot, stop struggling or you'll bleed out,  _ orc! _ "

The wound quickly closed, but a greenish paleness was still spreading from the fresh scar. Dorn's veins darkened and pressed against the confines of his skin, bulging and squirming in an unnatural way.

"Fuck! FUCK!" Cait cried, stumbling to ease his fall as he began to collapse to the ground. He was sweating and his eyes weren't focusing on her, "I swear to every god in every realm, Dorn, if you die I'll fucking kill you!"

He chuckled deliriously as he swayed backwards and murmured something along the lines of "I was just thinking the same of you." 

The prickling feeling of magic returned to the air and Cait spun, drawing her bow and knocking an arrow to it in one fluid motion as she scanned the empty room.

"Come out you fucking coward! I'll rip your goddamn throat out!"

Her body was shaking but she did her best to steady her breathing and focus on the details of her surroundings. There was a partially concealed set of stairs leading down to another level which she had noticed upon her arrival in the room, and she cautiously approached them. She strained her ears for any sign of where her foe might appear next.

Suddenly a soft scrape and sizzle began behind her left shoulder, she spun and loosed an arrow. It collided with the partially materialized shoulder of the mage and there was a muffled cry of pain as another portal closed around Davaeorn and spirited him away.

"Fucking mages _ " _ , she muttered to herself. 

She slung her bow onto her back and eased herself back into the shadow of the staircase, focusing everything in her will away from Dorn where he sat, curled in pain against the far wall and inward. She willed herself to disappear into the veiled darkness of the stairwell, and felt the cool tingling on her skin as she blended with the swirling shadows. She cautiously drew her knife and waited, hardly breathing, until the telltale crackle began again.

When the mage appeared again she was ready. As the entry portal began to form she found sure footing with one foot pressed against the stairway's wall and launched herself at her estimation of the mage's throat. 

Her aim proved to be true, and the blade of her dagger found its home in the hollow of Davaeorn's throat as she hooked her arm around him and plunged backwards. She pushed the blade up and in with a savage  _ crunch  _ as it severed bone.

She disaffectedly watched the body as she allowed it to crumple to the ground, and let out a single chuckle of mild disbelief at her own success.

"Guess we won't be needing to come back later," she remarked casually to the corpse of the highest ranking member of the Iron Throne they'd yet to find as she rifled through his pockets and divested him of anything that seemed to be important.

Dorn's weak but enthusiastic chuckle snapped her back to the present. She ran over to him and started loosening the fastenings for his shoulder pieces so she could remove them and get a better look at the wound. He shook his head and stopped her progress as he covered both of her small hands with one of his.

"Jaheira, or the slime’s things?"

Cait realized she was slightly shaking and wondered if that was something she needed to worry about. She tried to focus on what Dorn had said, but her mind was fixated on the singular task she had assigned herself, so she brushed his large hand off easily and continued to uncover the remains of the wound. 

Her spell had begun the healing process and stopped the flow of blood, but the large gash in the join of his neck and shoulder had not completely closed. The edges of it were black, and those bulging black veins spread from it like spider's legs. She nodded, her mind finally processing what had been said a moment before.

"Jaheira or the guy's stuff, yeah, good call."

She darted down the stairs and into a small large apartment. She rapidly scanned the branching hallways and the sliver of the room visible at the end of each. Upon identifying what looked to be a study of some kind she ran inside only to find--

"Please, don't hurt me, I'm just the apprentice!"

The younger man dressed in the plain robes of an apprentice mage was cowering against the farthest corner of the bookcase-lined room. Cait smoothly drew her stiletto from its sheath and calmly walked to the man. She yanked him up from his knees by the collar of his robe and slammed him back into one of the shelves he'd been trying to hide in front of. She pressed the blade of the razor-sharp knife to the whelp's throat and growled through gritted teeth.

"Do you know how to dispel your master's poison?"

The mage nodded frantically as tears streamed down his face and he tried in vain to squirm away from the lethal edge of that knife. There was a tense moment where neither of the parties involved were fully sure about what was going to come next, but sense won out over the burning panicked rage and Cait released her grip on the man's robes.

"Oh, thank you! You won't regret this!" The weasley man began to rummage through papers, folding stacks of them back, obviously looking for something. "I just need my key and--"

Cait shook her head "Just show me where it is."

The man scurried from the room and Cait followed easily. She felt far more calm than she would have expected in this situation, but that was probably a good thing, right? The man led her to a sleeping chamber and gestured at a large wooden trunk.

"Here!" He squeaked as his voice cracked anxiously. 

She shoved past him and easily unlatched the simple lock on the chest's front, additionally and almost automatically disabling the explosive trap which was armed within the trunk as she worked. She stood back and gestured to indicate that the man should retrieve whatever the item was for himself. He smiled at her uncomfortably for some reason before wiping away some of the prodigious amount of sweat he was currently shedding and lunging to open the chest. There was a beat where he had obviously expected something to happen, but when nothing did he glanced confusedly up at Cait.

"I disabled it." She said with a cool smile.

"A-ah," he sputtered, "good."

He stooped and began rummaging in the chest, eventually making a small pleased sound and straightening up with a small black vial in hand. Vait divested him of his burden and promptly punched him hard in the face. He dropped like a canvas sack of potatoes to the flagstone floor and she turned her focus to the small vial he'd handed her. It wasn't labeled, and she knew better than to take someone being threatened with imminent death at their word. She closed her eyes and focused her intuition in the direction of her hand, just as Parda had taught her to during his tutoring sessions with her long ago. She allowed her conscious mind relax and retreat calmly into the background as she focused her intuition entirely in the direction of the bottle in her hand. Somewhere in the shadows of her mind she heard the easy drone of Parda's voice, just as it had sounded in her classroom within the great library so long ago.

"Let the item tell you it's name, child, you needn't force it. Seek it and it will come."

After only a moment the words came.  _ Venom of the Purple Worm.  _

Cait growled and stuffed the vial into one of her many pockets before scanning the remaining contents of the chest. One light green bottle sparkled under her focused attention and she grabbed it.

_ Antidote. _

She let out a pleased little sound and-- after kicking the worthless man's chest once with all of her strength for good measure-- ran up the stairs. 

Dorn was even paler now. He was slumped against the far wall, his body slightly leaning to one side as he pressed a hand against the painful wound at his throat. Cait's trembling fingers had some difficulty uncorking the vial, but after a couple of tries she dislodged the small chunk of cork from the stopper and raised it to her companion's lips. She cupped a hand against the back of his overheated neck and helped his head tilt backwards as his throat accepted the mildly phosphorescent liquid. Dorn released a relieved sigh and his eyelids began to droop. Cait clutched his face between two of her hands.

"I'm so sorry if this is my fault."

Dorn chuckled weakly and slid his hand from his lap onto hers.

"Do not… apologize…" he grinned a lascivious if weak grin and offered her a wink "I was given the privilege of seeing you rip out the vermin's gullet in my honor."

Cait barked out a short scoff of a laugh, but any retort she could have potentially come up with died on her lips as two guards rushed in with swords drawn.

Cait sighed in irritation and immediately went with the first plan her mind offered up.

"Oh, thank the gods you're here! This man has been injured by those  _ awful  _ adventurers and needs help!"

The two men came to a halt, and there was a moment as one of their swords faltered and briefly lowered that Cait thought her knee-jerk plan had potentially actually worked. 

"Ma'am, I work here and I've never seen either of you before in my life."

She blinked and huffed out a short breath of frustration before switching to plan B. She glared up and locked eyes alternately with each of the guards, and when the magical pinkish glint of a charm spell appeared in her eyes it was rapidly reflected by both of theirs.

"Let's try that again," she grunted out through gritted teeth, "this man is hurt and needs your help. Did your boss have some sort of convenient secret elevator to the surface or something like that down--"

"Oh sure," the first guard interrupted amicably, "yeah we can just take him to the boss's hidden emergency exit."

Cait smiled encouragingly, "Yes that sounds perfect!"

The second guard glanced down at the floor and gestured conversationally at the gore-smeared corpse of their former employer.

"Look! There he is right there!"

The first guard grinned triumphantly.

"Great! So he won't mind."

Cait scoffed at the pair of goons and turned back to the now fully unconscious Gorn. 

_ Good,  _ she thought to herself,  _ that saves me from having to knock him out so he'd let them carry him. _

The pair of fools struggled to lift the half-orc's hulking steel-plated figure, but after a few failed attempts managed to half-lift, half-drag him down the stairs. Cait followed close behind, casually scanning her surroundings for useful loot as the men corralled Dorn onto the rough wooden platform which had been fitted onto a system of ropes and pulleys. She wondered idly to herself why the only time she saw these "elevators" were in the lowest levels of dungeons such as this one since they seemed to be fairly useful feats of engineering, but quickly dismissed the train of thought as unuseful at that time.

She hurriedly grabbed a bundle of letters and scrolls from the deceased mage’s desk, taking only a moment to rifle through the drawers until she found a sufficiently weighty pouch of gold pieces to replace what she’d gifted the man’s prisoners earlier. She smirked and tossed the sack lightly in the air before snatching it back and stowing it in the bag at her hip and joining her unconscious half-orc on the platform. She winked and mimed tipping a hat at the two stupefied guards as the magical intoxication she had inflicted on them began to fade from their eyes. By the time their shouted objections began to sound she was already on her way to the uppermost floor. 

As the platform moved slowly upwards and as the rush of her successful maneuvering of the last unexpected challenge in their little visit began to fade the fearful tension of the reality of the situation began to set back in. A  _ large  _ amount of a famously lethal venom had been delivered directly into Dorn’s bloodstream, and it had been several minutes until she had managed to get the antidote into him. The recovery from an exposure to the purple worm’s venom was famously both risky and extremely painful, as the process of it’s healing was resistant to the aid of both magic and medicine. Tears threatened sharply at the corners of her eyes and she reflexively squeezed and relaxed her fists repeatedly to calm herself as she eyed Dorn’s limp body with intense concern. She stooped down and checked his thready pulse, and the moment the lift came to a stop on the uppermost level of the mine she got to work dragging him into the vacant corridor. She sat him up as comfortably as she could against the rough rock and dirt of the tunnel wall. 

“Stay here.” She murmured to him unnecessarily before dashing down the tunnel and in the direction of the exit. 

Jaheira was waiting patiently with her freshly healed leg propped up on the small tankard-strewn table that resided in the bunker that occupied the entrance area of the compound. She was in the process of slicing into a shiny red apple she had materialized from somewhere despite the season, and looked up with a raised and unsurprised eyebrow as Cait rushed into the space panting and unaccompanied.

“Jaheira!” Cait cried in relief.

“Yes, oh omnipresent authority figure?”

Cait scoffed half-heartedly at the familiar mocking-but-affectionate nickname, and leaned down to rest her palms on her knees as she caught her breath.

“I was scouting ahead and we ended up close enough I thought we could figure out where the mage guy was so we ended up just clearing out the last few dudes and then,” she stopped to inhale a huge new lungful of air before rushing on, “then Dorn and I got… uh... a little distracted just for a second and the asshole snuck up on him and stabbed him with a venom-coated knife and I need help carrying him ‘cause we gotta get him to a healer soon or I think he might die.”

She panted as she came to the end of her rushed run-on sentence, staring up at Jaheira with desperation. The elder druid’s eyebrows had raised as she immediately caught on to the implication of the word “distracted” and Cait flinched in anticipation of her friend and mentor’s inevitable cutting remark. Surprisingly, though, Jaheira’s expression did not shift to the look of reproach Cait had expected from the eventual revelation of the change in her relationship with Dorn.

“Well,” said Jaheira calmly as she placed a sliver of apple on her tongue and headed down the stairs Cait had just run up, “you’d best get the others to come and help.”

Cait watched in exhausted relief as the closest thing she still had to a parental figure gracefully removed the responsibility of the nightmarish situation from her shoulders. Feeling mildly lightheaded she went in search of her other companions and the people they had managed to escort out of the compound. They were camped just outside, still lingering within the safety of the high walls, undoubtedly on Jaheira’s orders to wait for their remaining companions. Her strength began to fade as she waved Imoen to attention, who then in turn alerted the rest of the group, and those who were able approached to help get their fallen ally to safety.


	2. Interlude with a Campfire

By the time Cait was able to reasonably refer to herself as "conscious and no longer in shock" their group had been travelling for a few hours. She, Khalid, and Dorn were (in varying stages of well-being) wedged into the back of a rough-hewn four wheeled cart one of the former slaves had pointed out alongside an aged gelding in the mining compound's stables. Khalid nervously gripped his longbow, clearly attempting to prove himself useful by maintaining an archer's watch over the caravan's procession. Cait appreciated his efforts because they meant she could focus her attention entirely on the half-orc who lay-- still deeply unconscious-- partially in her lap. The shoulder and chest pieces of his armor had been removed and set to the side, and-- while it was impossible to diminish the size of the objectively massive half-orc by any method-- he looked even more gravely ill without it's lent prowess. Khalid glanced at her sympathetically from time to time, and Cait realized dumbly that he had never himself expressed any issue with the half-orc, other than meekly accompanying his wife when she had led the greater portion of their group out of Beregost… some… two days ago? Was that all?

_ By the time Dorn had dragged her out of bed the morning after their copulation and rushed them to the road north to catch up with the rest of the group they had discovered the three of them camped barely a mile outside of town. Imoen had offered Cait one of her usual winks before muttering a half-laughed, "She was just irritated that you were taking someone else's advice. You shoulda heard Khalid lay into her. Sorry I came with, knew she wouldn't take much to ease up." _

Cait looked down at Dorn's furrowed brow and pallid visage and smoothed a few loose, wiry hairs back from his fever-drenched forehead as she reflected on the other half-elf's demeanor. Khalid was typically much less morally forgiving than Jaheira, who's history as nothing short of an environmental terrorist had left her moral compass permanently a little skewed. 

"Khalid?"

The Harper started as he was pulled from his watchful contemplation.

"Y-yes?"

"Do you mind me… keeping him around like this, do you? I was really fine, you know, just finishing his stuff up and then meeting back up with you."

Khalid scoffed, a sound Cait couldn't recall ever hearing from the usually meek and careful bodyguard.

"T-t-'tis not my p-place." 

There was a pause. Cait wanted to ask him why he had initially sided with Jaheira, or why exactly he felt this matter wasn't his place when he had often spoken in judgment of her occasionally less-than-benevolent choices, but he didn't give her the chance.

"In the matters of the h-heart I am no stranger to forming attachments to those who may seem… rough, or even unsuitable on the exterior."

Cait cocked her head questioningly and processed this statement for a moment before embarrassingly pointing out in a single rushed breath, "But he and I hadn't even talked about that when--"

She didn't bother finishing as Khalid raised an eyebrow and tilted his head suggestively towards her.

"R-r-really, my d-dear. One can tell."

His mouth slanted up into a secretive half-smile as his gaze settled on Jaheira where she walked at the head of the caravan. Cait flushed and turned back to her temporary ward as the cart continued to bump and shudder down the road south.

Dorn didn't stir often, but every quarter hour or so there seemed to be a worsening of the effects of the poison as it cycled through his system. Even with the dose of antidote his pain-filled convulsions were intense. In order to prevent the huge half-orc from damaging either himself or the cart (or Cait, for that matter) in the throes of pain, Jaheira had bound him with glowing gold hued magical tendrils which wrapped and clenched around him as he struggled, leaving behind no mark or sign of added physical stress. With each attack his pain seemed to grow as he roared and thrashed. According to Jaheira each bout of the pain-induced convulsions should reduce in severity after the peak of the danger had passed, but until that peak was reached they would increase more and more in severity until the toxins began to be purged from his system. Her estimation for the end of the worst of the convulsions had been at around 2 hours, but that time had come and gone with no sign of relief in Dorn's future.

They had been travelling for six hours when it came time to stop and make camp, and he had still not begun to improve. It was decided between Jaheira and Khalid that it wasn't worth it to drag Dorn from the cart only to have to drag him back onto it a few hours later, so they conveyed the decision to Cait who merely accepted the information with a nod, refusing to look away from her lover for more than a moment in case-- despite what Jaheira insisted-- there was  _ something  _ she could do after all. Her demeanor had changed during the past hour of rapidly worsening bouts of the frighteningly intense pain which coursed through the half-orc, and she seemed to have lost the will to speak or the ability to do much other than wait in tense anticipation for another attack to course it's way through his body. She had seen much in the two years since she'd left the safety and shelter of Candlekeep, but she had never seen something like this continuing unstoppable torture, let alone experienced the pain of it occurring to a loved one.

Gorian's death had been quick once their attackers had managed to overpower him, and whenever she had killed it had always been a quick and painless transaction. She did not revel in the pain of her foes, although her killing of Davaeorn had brought her a rather shocking amount of pleasure. She wished, now, that she hadn't ended it so quickly. Perhaps she could have poisoned  _ him  _ so that he could feel the pain her beloved currently suffered through before she had taken his life. Perhaps…

She shook the invasive thoughts of revenge from her mind and focused her attentions, instead, on laying down the sigils necessary for creating a zone of silence within the cart so that everyone could get some rest during the long night ahead. She carefully inserted a single symbol, intended to represent herself as an exception, so that she would still be able to hear him in case the cries of pain turned into calls for assistance. Once the casting was completed she pulled her cloak tight around her, and wedged herself into the corner of the cart's floor closest to her orc. Almost immediately-- and fully without warning despite Cait's hypervigilant senses-- Imoen appeared, relaxing casually against the railing at the rear of the cart as if she'd been lounging there for hours.

"You're not gonna just sit there all night, are ya?" She quipped in her usual cheery tone.

Cait grunted an affirmative and curled tighter in on herself. Imoen sighed.

"You maybe didn't get hurt, but you did a hell of a lot today and you need to get taken care of too, ya know?"

Cait curled tighter into herself and did her best to ignore her foster sister's entirely reasonable point. Unfortunately for her tense depression she had fallen into, Imoen was no more willing to let the subject go than she had been to let  _ any  _ subject go in the past two decades of their acquaintance.

"Nope, we're not doin’ the sulking thing."

Before Cait could so much as shoo her little sister away, the magenta-clad younger woman was in front of her and dragging her by the collar to the edge of the cart. Cait resisted, weakly and awkwardly, but before she could gain a decent footing Imoen was shoving her unceremoniously off of the back of the cart and onto the muddied snowdrift beneath it.

"What the fuck, Imoen!" Cait screeched her displeasure as she extricated herself from the clinging cold of the snow.

Imoen shrugged, "Oops, guess you'll have to come dry off by the fire now!"

Cait began wringing the edge of her cloak as her sister hopped down from the lip of the cart. Even through her exhausted annoyance, Cait knew she was hungry. She anxiously eyed Dorn's prone form before sighing and accepting Imoen's arm as it looped through her own and began leading her towards where the others had laid camp.

"For a little while, but then I have to go back."

Imoen nodded overly seriously, her brows knitted together with comic sincerity.

"Imoen, this is serious, I--"

The facetiousness in Imoen's mannerisms immediately faded, and she smiled softly down at her elder sister. She wrapped her arms around Cait's waist and pressed the side of her head against her shoulder as they walked wrapped tightly together for warmth as they often had when home-bound after some childish snowbound adventure or another of theirs in their youth.

"I know, kid. I know."

Cait slid her nearest arm around Imoen in return and rested her cheek on the top of her head. After a moment she finally processed what the younger woman had said and scoffed out a brief laugh.

"I'm older than you!"

"Eh, well, potato tomato."

"What does that mean?!??"

Some time later the party of hunters who had ventured out to find food for the group returned bearing some freshly slain fowl, and dinner was prepared. Cait sat by the fire, only leaving once to check on Dorn when she thought she'd heard a cry. She ate and warmed herself as the newcomers told her companions of their trials and tales of their lives. Imoen snuck her a few swigs of sharp whiskey from a flask and, warmed by more than fire, Cait returned to her post.

Jaheira was there, leaning over Dorn's still body. She held a small, pale light in one hand, and as she turned to look at Cait the light glittered within the shimmering fear of her eyes.

"I fear we must press on now, my dear. I believe we have been treating the wrong toxin. I will gather your things and tell the others. We must get him to the temple at the Inn sooner rather than later."

Cait scrambled up into the bed of the carriage and threw herself at Dorn's body. He was drenched in sweat, but had now gone fully, deathly cold. She caught at Jaheira's hand as the druid squeezed around her and looked up at her with wild eyes.

"Is he going to die, Jaheira?"

Jaheira leaned down and gripped Cait's hand tightly within both of her own.

"He damn well can try! If he does we will just have to drag him back so you can never let him hear the end of it."

Jaheira jumped down from the cart and dashed away, and Cait focused her attention down at Dorn's slack, blanched face. She determinately wiped the gathering frustrated moisture from her eyes and gripped her lover's large, clammy hand fiercely in both of her own.

"I'm already not going to let you hear the end of it, you bastard, so you better not make things worse for yourself by fucking dying."

After only a few moments Jaheira and two of the new group gathered onto the cart and began to hurry their way onward, seeking the safety and shelter of the walls of the Friendly Arm Inn and it’s resident cleric.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh-ho-ho what's this? I DID include porn? We're all shocked, I'm sure. Tags have been updated!

Soft sunlight filtered through linen curtains and played along the patterns woven into the blanket under which Dorn lay, gradually coming to the first clear instance of consciousness he had displayed for what felt like an infinitely long time. Cait perched anxiously on the edge of the desk across from the bed's footboard and watched the half-orc as he began to stir. 

She hadn't slept for more than an hour at a time since they'd camped prior to stumbling across the mines, and the wear had long since begun to show on her features. She had bathed once Gellana Mirrorshade had deemed him well enough to be moved from the temple infirmary and into the Inn itself, hoping that when he woke up he wouldn't feel the need to immediately begin lecturing her. Despite the hot water and an hour's fretful rest, she looked horrid even to herself. Gorian had once told her that she handled emotional distress poorly after she had had a falling out with Imoen in their younger years. Despite her usual roughness and bravado, once an anxiety had taken it's hold upon her she had never been quite able to shake it unless the issue which had caused the anxiety was resolved fully to her satisfaction. During the week that followed their disagreement Imoen had avoided her, and Gorian had found Cait unwilling to eat, sleep, or even admit her upset until she had finally broken down and apologized to her younger sister, and this instance of concern was proving her responses to distress largely unchanged.

She had been sitting on the edge of the desk, hazily staring in the direction of Dorn and waiting for him to awaken for an hour when his eyes finally began to open. The first thing he saw was Cait, looking down at him from a perch on the far wall with hazy, dark-circled eyes. She was dressed in more casual garb than he was accustomed to seeing her in, and the loose fitting tunic she was wearing suited her quite nicely.

"I didn't know you owned another shirt."

Cait blinked and her eyes, and seemed to have to rouse herself from some form of hypnotized state. As her eyes met his, her mouth split into a huge relieved grin. She let out a long breath and collected herself before speaking with only the faintest hint of cracked emotion in her voice.

"Shut the fuck up you bastard," she murmured as she half-heartedly kicked the frame of the bed he was laying on. "It's been 3 days."

He nodded sympathetically and drew back the covers next to him on the bed.

"Come here."

She didn't look like she'd slept much if at all in the days he'd been unconscious. There were dark circles under her eyes and her narrow shoulders drooped. Despite her obvious exhaustion, she shook her head.

"No! I should go get you food and tell the others you're awake."

Dorn shook his head firmly.

"No. Come here."

Cait looked about on the verge of tears, but she pushed herself away from the desk and sauntered noncommittally towards his bed. She fussed with a loose thread on the hem of her tunic as she spoke.

"You died for a minute there. They told me you died. I've been sitting here waiting for you and I thought you weren't going to make it. Are you feeling… I don't know, okay? Not… dying, at least?"

He made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat and nodded an affirmative. 

"I have survived worse. Come here." He lifted the edge of the blanket emphatically, and then seemed to hesitate for a moment before adding, "Please."

She relented with a weary nod, and took a couple of steps forward but stopped at the shake of his head.

"Not with all of that on."

Cait looked down at herself and then gave him a look of exacerbation. 

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to--"

"No," he smirked, "No. I just want to feel you."

She smoothly peeled only her outermost layer off, and slid into the bed beside him. He raised his arm for her, noting that the site of his wound offered no resistance to his movement. She smoothed cool fingertips over the fading scar at the base of his throat before slotting herself under his arm and resting her cheek against his firm chest.

"What happened?" He asked, the smooth rumble of his voice vibrating through his chest and into her own where she was pressed against his side. She hummed happily.

"You got stabbed, the knife was poisoned and I found an antidote, but Gellana thinks it had some sort of curse on it too. You had a bad fever and you were like… convulsing a lot, but she said you must be strong because you made it out okay."

Dorn nodded in agreement with the gnome cleric he had had little reason to ever interact with and pulled Cait tighter to his chest. His eyelids began to droop and he managed to slur out, "Good. You should get some rest, you seem… tired."

Cait smirked up at her already sleeping bedmate.

"Sure.  _ I'm _ the tired one." She whispered in reply before her own eyelids betrayed her weariness and drifted closed.

Some time later the room's door slowly opened as Jaheira entered on one of her frequent check-ins. Cait blinked herself awake and pressed her index finger to her lips.

"He has awakened?" Questioned the druid in a low whisper.

Cait nodded. "For a little while, at least."

The corner of Jaheira's mouth quirked up for such a brief amount of time that Cait thought she might have imagined it.

"I will send for food."

The elf woman exited quietly, and a few minutes later one of the Inn's staff quietly brought in a tray of cold foods before sneaking out without disturbing the intimidating pair on the bed. As the door clicked shut Dorn stirred again. He tested his shoulder as much as he could without disturbing the half-elf that was pleasantly pressed against his side. There was a weariness to the motion, but no grievous or disabling damage seemed to have been done, though the wound had been in such a delicate place. He rolled himself gently onto his side, pulling Cait against his front so he could feel her secure, constant warmth against as much of his skin as possible. He held her tightly to him with both arms for a moment, but slackened his grip when the possibility of suffocating her occurred to him. She was soft and slack in his grip, and he entertained himself for a time with thoughts of the various lewd methods he'd like to employ in waking the woman once she'd rested for a while. 

He had certainly woken from unconsciousness in less pleasant circumstances before, he reminded himself. Such hospitality deserved reward.

His stomach rumbled irritably, and his mind moved towards more urgent and practical matters. A platter of cold cut meats and various other unnecessary garnishes had been left on the table, but in order to access them he would have to remove himself from the pleasant haven he had awoken within. He needed a visit to the privy as well, and that proved to be urgent enough that he managed to clumsily untangle himself from Cait's grip. There was a brief scare as he jostled her a bit aggressively in an attempt to crawl over her, but she merely continued to sleep like the dead, only stirring to stretch herself out enough to maximize the amount of bed her small figure covered.

After he had relieved himself and briefly washed with cold water in the suite's small bathing area, he grabbed a small slab of ham from the platter and savagely tore into it. He ate his fill and drank from the pitcher of water which had been left by the bed at some point. Irritatingly exhausted again after such minimal movement, he ushered Cait forward across the bed and crawled in behind her to spoon the length of his body along her back.

He wasn't weary enough to sleep, but without anything to occupy his hands or mind aside from the woman in front of him he found himself reliving the last of what he could remember of the occurrences in the depths of the mine. She was quite the little fighter, his great leader. The look on her face when she’d torn out the mage’s throat in front of him had been more than worth the price of admission. His loins stirred, and he chuckled darkly to himself as he realized he would need to withhold his attentions from her for a few hours more if she was to catch up on even a fraction of the sleep she’d seemingly missed over him.

Unbidden, then, his mind wandered farther back and to the start of the quest he’d begun that had led him so conveniently to his new lover’s feet. The memories of the days before the betrayal of his former band of allies seemed darker in retrospect now than they had in the anger-filled nights he’d spent obsessively plotting their deaths from his jail cell. His dalliances with the necromancer Kryll had been more violent and less driven by the dark, emotional pull he felt towards his new mate. Thinking of Cait alongside the companions of his past brought a rise of bile to his throat, and he choked it back and attempted to regain control over his emotions.

Cait would have hated him had she seen him then, it occurred to him, and that fact did more damage to him than any accursed mage’s dagger would ever be capable of. He was going to have to tell her of his actions, he realized, lest he live in constant fear from this moment forward that she might discover the truth of him and cast him aside. She was no holier-than-thou saint by any means, but he knew her more than well enough by now to be able to imagine the look she would have had on her face after seeing him fell even a singular citizen without cause. The image shook him, and he spent the next several hours fixedly obsessing over what he should do next, and if it would be unforgivable of him to allow himself to fall inside her even just one last time before the inevitable scorn which would follow the storytelling that would have to come from him all too soon.

It was the dark and early hours of the morning when Cait's breathing finally changed and she began to stir against his chest. Dorn shook himself from his dark thoughts and focused instead on the slide of his hands along the smooth skin of his bedmate's bare thighs. He nuzzled his nose through the gathered hair at her throat and scraped his short tusks gently along her jugular vein as it began to pulse and throb with her heightening excitement.

"Thought you'd never wake up."

He practically felt her roll her eyes at him and he chuckled at her throat before gently beginning to suck on the now-faded bruise he had previously marked her with. She moaned low in her throat and her body began to stir under his touch. He smoothed his calloused hand up and down the velvet of her uppermost thigh and slid his grip to the front where he wordlessly tugged her leg up and apart from the other so he could slide his hand between them to grip at the softer flesh of her inner thigh roughly. Cait moaned and her body arched as her legs involuntarily opened for him. He moaned against the dark bruise he'd left at her throat and yanked her leg back and over his own before biting down roughly on his mark and pushing his fingers up, past the unnecessary scrap of fabric she still wore on her lower half, and between the lips of her sopping wet cunt.

"D-dorn… I… uh… you…" she was grinding back against him and seemed entirely too distracted to finish her thought, so he dutifully sat back slightly and ceased his action for a moment.

"Speak."

"Is your shoulder okay?"

He flexed the affected arm where it wrapped around her, causing the tips of two of his fingers to push between her inner labia and inside her.

"What do you think?"

She moaned and twisted her neck back so she could look up at him with glassy lust-filled eyes.

"I think I'll worry about you later."

She pushed up and slammed her lips into his as he slid his two large fingers into her considerably faster than he had planned. Sloppy. Cait didn't seem to mind as she broke the kiss to turn her head into the pillow to unleash a low cry of his name. He smirked against her hair.

She snaked one of her arms back and between them and wrapped her hand around his erection from where it was trapped between them. He grunted in surprise thrust against her hand a few times, eliciting a pleased, gasping giggle from Cait. She tugged at his busily occupied wrist with her other hand and bit out over her shoulder.

"Not enough. Let me."

He withdrew his fingers from her and unleashed a long moan of approval as she twisted her hips up, angled his straining prick towards her, and sank back onto him in one fluid motion. She wasn't really ready for his inhuman size, and he heard her slight gasp of air as the invasive stretching nearly pushed past her threshold for "pleasurable pain." Her pelvic muscles instinctively clenched and fluttered around him and he groaned her name against her shoulder. They were both heaving great panting gasps and she was beginning to writhe in desperation for friction against him. He wrapped his muscular arm tighter around her torso and rumbled into her ear.

"No rush."

She growled her impatience and reached behind herself to grip the hair at the nape of his neck. He snarled at the sharp pleasure and she twisted her neck to glare at him through blazing, dilated eyes.

"Fuck me." She hissed between gritted teeth and he groaned and clawed at her still-raised leg to wrench it back and over him as far as she could stretch. He gripped it and used it for leverage as he leaned against her and began to brutally pound into her from behind. He shoved his free arm between the pillow and her head, and she turned her head and bit savagely into it. He felt the skin break and he roared, leaning forward and pushing her onto her front as he mounted her from behind. 

She pressed her ass up and back into him and he slammed his full length into her as he gripped the back of her head and pushed it deeper into the mattress to muffle her scream. When she'd regained some semblance of control again he tugged on a fistful of her hair to bow her body back and towards him. She moaned gasping dry-throated praises of him and began to shudder around his already tightly encased cock. He groaned and slammed as deep as he could in one firm stroke before holding his position there--deep inside her-- and yanking her back firmly against him. She let out a garbled, strangled noise before managing to gasp out a fractured, "Gods, yes, right there."

He smirked and began to pump his hips in short, deep thrusts, barely moving within her at all and somehow nearly overwhelming her senses with pleasure all at once. He realized with irritation that he wouldn’t be able to bend to stimulate the bundle of nerves between her legs without sacrificing the force he would be capable of from this angle.

"Touch yourself." He commanded as a compromise with himself.

She shoved her hand beneath her without hesitation and he felt her sharp nails scrape against his heavy balls briefly before her fingers began to slide and swirl against her clit. He groaned in appreciation for her touch, and smacked her ass once, hard, as he began to pump in and out of her with all the speed and force he could muster.

"Oh… Dorn… oh fuck…"

Cait began to curl forwards into herself, a sure sign she was about to cum. Dorn released her hair and slid his arm under her chest, forcing her body to arch back against his chest as she began to flex under his grip. He pressed his free hand to her mouth and held her firmly against his chest as his pumping hips relinquished all attempts at finesse for force. She sobbed an exclamation of pleasure, her voice hitching against his palm with each powerful thrust when the angle drove his pounding cock more firmly against her sensitive innermost parts. Her fingers worked furiously against her clit, and suddenly she jerked her face to the side, and bit into the tender flesh at his wrist with every ounce of strength she had along with a barely suppressed scream.

Dorn raked his claws down Cait's chest, causing red slashing welts to bloom on her pallid skin in their wake. With one final powerful thrust he broke the last of her control, while simultaneously the beautiful blossom of pain she was inflicting on him broke the last of his. They gripped onto each other and exchanged panted praises, and as their muscles relaxed and his grip on her slackened Cait turned herself in his arms and began kissing him softly along his jaw and up towards his lips. As she turned, their connection was broken and they both made simultaneous low protests at the loss even as Dorn enthusiastically began returning her tender kisses.

She held his face in both hands and leaned into him, indicating silently for him to fall back and to the side against his pillow. He slid his arms around her and obeyed, but taking her with him so he wouldn't have to stop kissing her soft, full lips. On his back now, he cupped the back of her head delicately in his powerful hands, and gasped against her insistent mouth as she began to clamber on top of him. She pulled from his grip, and reared back to raise herself above his flagging erection which she wrapped both hands around and began to pump enthusiastically. He thrust up into her hands sharply, making her gasp a little as the movement caught her off guard and she squeezed her hands around him reflexively. With a restrained roar he seized her hips with both hands, his jagged, untrimmed claws leaving glaring red crescents in her pale flesh with each move of his grip. His head pressed back into the pillows and he ground his teeth together in frustration.

"You'll let me back inside you, now, girl."

Cait laughed at the desperation in his voice and slid her hips forward enough that he could feel her wet heat against his rapidly reinvigorating cock. He yanked at her hips and she slid forward enough that the length of his cock was pressed along the cradling line of her twitching cunt. She scraped her newly unoccupied fingertips against him, leaving her own brand of pale slashes against his dark, heaving chest. She smiled wickedly, and-- instead of raising herself as he had hoped-- began grinding herself against him in long, wet strokes that he realized with flare of lust were being lubricated by their mixed spendings as they leaked from her.

He let out a strangled sound and pushed his hips up against hers, but was interrupted in his plans to simply lift her and slide himself home into her beautiful, clenching hole by one of her delicate hands. She had leaned back, and slid one of her long-fingered mits behind herself and was alternately stroking and squeezing the tender sac of his balls. 

"Best be careful how you move,  _ blackguard _ ."

The tendons in his neck popped forth with the effort of his restraint. The sound that escaped him was no better than a whimper, and his blood sang with the rush her assertion of control caused.

"Oh, yeah? You like me being bossy?"

He snarled and thrust up against her entirely ineffectively, and she moaned a soft laugh of satisfaction and amusement. She flexed her sharp-taloned fingers around his testicles and ground herself down on him forcefully a single time.

"I asked you a fucking question, half-orc, and it wasn't for the purpose of remaining  _ unanswered _ ."

He refused to answer, but the voice in the depths of his mind was urging him to agree, to submit to her demands, because of course in truth he already had. Still, he clenched his jaw and attempted to yank her up and regain his accustomed control, but only earned himself another twist and squeeze at his most delicate place. He grumbled and released her hips, sliding his fingertips along the bands of her still-attached underclothes.

Looking up at her now, the presence of the scraps of thin fabric that dared to cover her breasts and groin from him struck him as an affront that required immediate action. He wondered idly where his own underthings he was sure he'd been wearing earlier had gotten to, but decided the details of his divestment of them were likely unimportant at this time. He swiftly raised one of his heavy hands to her sternum, where he gently scraped the tip of one of his nails along the line of her partially covered cleavage. She shivered, and he took advantage of her momentary distraction and tore his hand down, easily ripping what remained of her clothing from her like tissue.

She gasped, and reactively darted forward where she placed both hands firmly on his chest in a mockery of an attempt to hold him down. The placement of her arms pressed her small breasts together and forward in a pleasing way and Dorn leered up at her. He chuckled at her flustered expression, but quieted when she turned her gaze down upon him. She swiveled her hips sharply, which startled a strangled cry of her name from him. Clearly pleased with herself, she shifted forward in a motion that made her shoulders roll like those of a stalking lioness. The aura of power emanating from her was intense and intoxicating, and he found himself no longer willing to struggle against her demands despite his rapidly crumbling pride.

Her hands inched forward and found his tensed, muscular throat which she squeezed with a surprising amount of power. Even with her entire weight behind the grip, though, she barely lessened his ability to breathe, but the pleasurable rush of the instinct to fight her off that coursed through him finished the job for her. He arched up to meet her, and his hands returned to gripping her hips as she once again began to slide her soaking, spasming pussy up and down the tortured length of his cock where it lay trapped between them.

"Do you want me, Dorn?"

He managed only a broken sound of agreement with a nod as his mind became hazy and overridden by both lust and the desire to please her that was currently highjacking his system. She released his throat and leaned languidly back, dragging her hooked fingertips down the sides of his chest as she went. She raised herself up a fraction of an inch, just enough to let his cock strain and push up against her before she began teasing her own clit by swiveling her hips  _ just so  _ as the spongy head of his cock rubbed against her of its accord. Dorn groaned, but the sound shifted into a sharp exclamation as she raked her nails across his belly just hard enough to draw forth a trail of beaded blood in their wake.

"You're not answering."

He released a brief cry of frustration and gripped her hips, the muscles of his arms spasming as he resisted the urge to shift her into place 

"By the gods, yes, woman, please!"

She wrapped a single cool hand around as much of his girth as she could hold, and began slowly pumping him as her other hand slid down over his where it gripped her hip and across to the visibly dripping apex of her thighs. A pitiful whimper escaped him as he watched her begin to pleasure herself unaided above him. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to resist the urge to knock her hand aside and take over for the both of their sakes, but just as the vision before him was cut off she ceased her hand’s motion around him.

"Watch."

Dorn groaned from deep in his chest and forced his eyes open. She resumed her attentions and he watched, powerless, as her breathing hitched up and began to grow ragged.

"Cait, let me…"

She squeezed his cock just short of too hard and cut him off.

"Watch."

Her shoulders began to tremble and the speed of the two fingers busily stimulating her began to move in jerking, rapid circles. The sight of her bringing herself to completion alone was-- while arousing-- such a  _ wrong  _ that his mind was becoming entirely fixated upon it. His fingers itched to replace hers, to stroke and urge her over that edge as he'd so recently discovered the pleasure of exploring with her. Her lips parted and a breathy moan tumbled from them. 

It was the tense anticipation of her impending orgasm that finally broke him.

"Cait."

It was only her name, but his tight throat made the sound come out weak and broken enough that, had he been in his right mind, he would have quickly said something threatening or brusque to cover his own vulnerability. Unfortunately, he was not currently capable of that and the whimpered sound of her name drifted up to her, unimpeded by any attempt to hide it. She grinned down at him in wicked satisfaction and relented at last. She raised herself up and when she sank back down it was with the glorious, hot, squeezing feeling of her cunt wrapped around him.

The feeling of him pressing into her (at least thus far in their… whatever it was… fling? Romance?) had not failed to be anything other than exactly what she needed and any given moment. He stretched her in a way that should have been too much, but instead filled her exactly to her limit. The fullness made it next to impossible to control her body's responses, and as she lowered herself down onto him she felt the usual gush of wetness from her innerparts along with its accustomed side effect of causing the muscles of her thighs to quake and shudder with the effort of being forced to continue supporting her.

She threw her arms out to catch herself before she could fall against his chest, but he was already raising up to catch her and she ended up sliding her arms around his solid, comforting torso and clinging to him as she collapsed atop him. The pleasure radiating through her made her toes curl and her body tighten, but she pushed the headiness of the feeling aside and began rutting against him with a kind of lazy force that made sparks bloom behind her eyelids as she lifted herself languidly up from where she had fallen. Using her two hands on his chest for support, she began to swivel and thrust her hips around and down into his with her own considerable, wiry strength. He moaned and flexed underneath her, finally allowing himself to just lay back and be taken care of for once in his godsforesaken life. She smirked at the victory and focused on the rhythmic squeeze and pull she was inflicting on his overheated and throbbing cock. The thought of what she wanted to do next made her flush, but she powered through minor embarrassment of speaking and forced her lips to open.

"You feel so fucking good, Dorn, oh god... you feel so fucking good."

He grunted a rumbling pleased sound that sent shivers up her spine and egged her on as she picked up her already rapid pace atop him.

"You're mine." She grunted through her own heavy breathing. There was a twinge of something akin to doubt in his eyes when she met them, and she darted a hand out to grip his stubble-roughened jaw. "No matter what you're thinking right now, you're mine, you bastard," she twisted her hips in a forceful movement that rubbed his girth deliciously within her, and nearly lost her train of thought while emphasizing her point, "and you don't," she gave up on finesse altogether slammed herself down into him again, "get,"  _ slam,  _ "to do scare me,"  _ slam,  _ "like that,"  _ slam,  _ "again."

_ Slam. _

He roared so loudly that it was  _ she  _ who was forced to attempt to cover his mouth for once. Before she could even make contact, though, he brushed her hand aside with the back of one of his, and suddenly rolled them so he was over her and thrusting hard inside of her without missing a beat. The head of his cock was slamming into her cervix mercilessly and some deep-down unoccupied portion of her mind looked forward to the eventuality of the aching soreness that would cause later. She locked her legs around his waist and passionately returned his kiss when he directed her face to his and joined their lips with a heated snarl. She let out a whimpering sob and clung to his neck as he roughly, expertly coaxed that warm overwhelming rush of emotion from her one brutal stroke at a time. As she began to fall apart at the seams, he clung to her and grunted his own pleasure and adoration into her ear as he began to throb and pulse deep inside her.

She began to coo and stroke him, kissing the tension from his scarred brow and cheekbones tenderly as their mutual shivering began to abate. He suddenly began pulling away, and she gripped his shoulders with her remaining strength to keep him in place.

"No, don't…"

"Cait, I…"

They both stopped. Cait out of a quiet concern for whatever was happening, and Dorn out of a desperate hope for  _ anything  _ to delay what he had to do next, if for even just a few more moments. When she did not continue, but simply closed her rosy, swollen lips and looked up at him with curiosity he steeled himself and forced his body to allow him to pull away from her beloved warmth.

"Cait."

Her eyes were tearing up and her chest was rising and falling rapidly from emotions that were very different from what had caused her panting only a moment before. He made himself turn away, and sat on the edge of the feather bed with his elbows on his knees. Cait didn't move from where he'd left her, and the trembling he could feel from her through the surface underneath him was a torture to not sooth away.

"I think it's important that I… tell you some details of myself and my actions before things progress any further. It has… it has occurred to me that we  _ both  _ made promises while under the influence of a lot of drink and I don't--"

"No we didn't."

Her voice was cold and detached, as it often got when she interacted with a person who had caused her personal hurt. Still, he could not make himself turn and look at her.

"What do you mean?"

"I had had one single glass of wine, and you were  _ perfectly fine _ , so don't use that as an excuse and just be fucking honest with me."

She began to move then, she crawled to the foot of the bed and picked her way over the footboard and onto the floor at the foot of the bed. He stared at his bare feet, trying to find the words but finding himself uncharacteristically, deeply terrified of what he had to say next. In his hesitation, he didn't catch her before she had already begun redressing in what remained of her discarded clothing.

"No, I'm not…" he forced himself to look up at her from where he sat slumped on the edge of the feather bed, and the sight of her angrily covering the marks he had left across her lean body ignited a spark of his accustomed anger within him that rapidly bubbled up as he rushed to stop her before she had fully emotionally divorced herself from the situation as he had seen her do in countless other moments of stress.

"I'm not ending things, woman, but there are things you don't know that I must tell you and it is  _ you who  _ will likely flee  _ me _ at the end of it, so sit the fuck back down and  _ listen to me! _ "

He hadn't meant to shout, but his booming voice had filled the small room easily and she met his gaze with startled eyes. She inclined her head slightly, but made no move to join him in the bed.

He told her in terse, carefully worded sentences of the events at Barrow for which he had found himself imprisoned afterwards. He did not hedge the responsibility of his actions, but rather detailed to excess the horrors he had happily perpetrated under orders of his former friend and leader. He told her of the group's failed plans, and then in terse brief statements he spoke of the women and children he had thoughtlessly slaughtered. He expressed how little it still mattered to him that he had mowed down a village of people for no more reason than that they had been in the way, and that until their meeting he had given nothing other than the betrayal that had followed the event more than a moment's thought.

"Except, the more I think of it from  _ your  _ perspective… the more I consider what  _ you  _ would have thought of me had you seen me in such a state... the glory of the blood I spilled no longer seems…"

He trailed off, unable to either look at her or find the words he needed to convey this haunted, sinking feeling he had been carrying with him since the previous evening. There was a heavy silence between them for a long time, and the pressure of it nearly pushed him to continue talking, but instead he cautiously raised his head to meet her cold, empty stare.

"So, you're telling me that you're a monster."

His chest filled with defensive anger and he bitterly bit out, "Perhaps I am, but I'm the  _ monster _ who shares your bed, oh innocent lover of mine."

Cait sneered and took a threatening step towards him before catching herself and forcing her hackles down.

"I  _ will not  _ be your conscience, Dorn."

The half-orc shook his head, "No, no of course…"

She raised a hand to stop him, "I  _ can  _ not _. _ "

He nodded cautiously, and gave her room to gather her thoughts. She accepted the space and paced for a moment, chewing at her still kiss-swollen lower lip as she considered the newfound information. Just as Dorn was about to run out of patience, she came to a stop facing the door.

Cait knew she had been making rash decisions of late, but the act of falling into Dorn's bed had seemed so blissfully natural that it hadn't even occurred to her that it was perhaps another example of her rush to enjoy life before whoever the black-armored man was who hunted her stole the rest of her time on earth from her. Even now, with the evidence of their stark and irreconcilable differences fresh in her ears, their newly budding relationship felt like nothing more than a wondrous inevitability she had been blessed to stumble across. She clenched her fists fitfully at her sides, and turned towards him.

His eyes were swollen with unshed, fearful tears and the sight of it broke her heart. She almost just dismissed the entire subject, just released him from his guilt with no thought of her own stewing gutful of anger and protests. She respected him more than that, though.

"I need time."

His eyes closed and he inclined his head briefly in acknowledgment. She approached him and ran the tips on her fingers along his brow, gently attempting to smooth the worried wrinkles which had formed there.

"Dorn, I already knew. I well and truly fully  _ know  _ now, and I thank you for being honest with me. I… I think I needed to hear it… But…” Here she made a frustrated sound, and stepped away from him with a crow of exasperation, “But you’re still a fucking asshole, and I need to be upset about this for a while, okay?”

He barked out a laugh, but at her scornful glare he quieted himself.

“Yes, of course.”

She snarled and kicked at one of his boots where it had been neatly placed against its mate by someone other than him during his period of unconsciousness. It fell on its side and knocked over its partner, and she ran a trembling hand through her hair.

“I… I need to go. I don’t want to yell at you if that’s not what I want to do, does that make sense?”

Dorn nodded, and without a backwards glance she was gone. He loved her in part for her mercurial nature, but now as he clothed himself alone in the otherwise vacant sick-chamber the whiplash from her whirlwind of feelings settled down around him uneasily.


End file.
